Give Me the Keys!
by Karmastition
Summary: KennyStan Kenny's idea of a joke is to trick Stan into thinking his car keys are in his pants, and to make him go and get them. Little does Stan know, they weren't there at all... They were actually in his back pocket. Too late for that, though! One-shot


**Give Me the Keys!, a South Park fanfic by Karmastition**

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, but I _do_ own South Park pajamas… Actually, they're stolen… But what does that matter?

I haven't been posting anything in awhile, but this is because I haven't had access to a computer... I just moved from New Jersey to a place in hell called North Carolina, and we just got the internet set up... And I was at loss for plot bunnies such as these for a long period of time. Hopefully, but not likely, this will make up for it, though. Enjoy! Sorry for the shortness.

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_"Kenny! _This isn't funny!" Stan yelled in frustration as he chased the skinny blonde around the parking lot of South Park's 7-11. Kenny, much to Stan's dismay, decided that it would be 'hilarious' to steal the other's boys car keys while he wasn't looking... and shove them down his pants.

It would have been fine, only if Kenny had a vagina, _not _a penis. Maybe if Stan didn't have a ten o'clock cerfew, it would have been a lot more tolerable. But right now, it was nine fourty five, and it usually took Stan fifteen minutes to drive home from the convience store, which, quite frankly, wasn't so convienant. Even years of playing football as the runner-back couldn't prepare Stan for having to chase Kenny around, because for someone so thin, and someone who smoked on top of that, he ran pretty fast.

Luckily, Kenny slowed to a jog, his breathing coming out rapidly. Maybe Stan should suggest Kenny to his coach?

"I told you," Kenny said, a mischevious grin playing his features, "If you want them, come and get them." The blonde gestured toward his pants, a bulge that Stan hoped was only from his keys, visible under his ripped jeans.

Stan sighed, then proceeded to glare at his friend, "Kenny, there's no way I'm reaching inside your pants, so just give them up or we're both going to have to walk home."

"Then so be it. I live like, five minutes away from here, anyway," Kenny pointed out with a grin, and this only made Stan glare harder.

He considered; Either he obligues to Kenny's sick game, or he gets home late, or maybe even not at all. There was no way in hell he was walking in this weather. He was already freezing his ass off and he was just standing outside. He'd rather camp out inside the 7-11: at least there, he'd be able to buy cheap and delicious coffee. He was certainly not prepared to go home to his dad, Randy Marsh, and get grounded for two weeks or more because he was five minutes late, though. Was it really worth it?

Much to Kenny's amusement, Stan groaned in defeat. "Fine," Stan said flatly, making Kenny grin all the more wider. Stan walked up to Kenny with reluctance, putting his hand on the top of Kenny's jeans, his face crumpling in disgust. He stopped there, hesitating.

"Well?" Kenny questioned with a grin, "Go on. Get your keys."

Stan knew this had to be done, because there was no way Kenny would let Stan off the hook. He could work around this, though... He didn't need to touch anything, just get his keys and pull his hand away...

"Ugh," Stan groaned, closing his eyes and looking away from the blonde boy as he dove his hand inside his pants... His hand wrapped around something hard and rather large, but they most certainly weren't his keys.

It took him awhile to process exactly what he was holding in his hand when suddenly whatever it was twitched and grew harder.

"_Sick, dude!_" Stan exclaimed, quickly pulling his hand out. He looked at Kenny with a look of sheer annoyance, disgust and shock, all at the same time. "What the _fuck? _Where the hell ARE they?!"

Kenny grinned, reaching toward his back pocket, pulling out Stan's keys. No doubt they were his; Volvo keys with a skull hanging from a keychain, along with his house keys and spares to his garage. Stan wanted to scream.

He just touched a guy's _dick. _There was such a thing called five second rule, but how long was he touching it? Five seconds? Ten? Was that even a real rule when it came to touching a dude's penis?

Does this make him _gay?_

Stan grabbed the keys from his friend's hand and started walking toward his car. There was no way in hell he'd be giving Kenny a ride tonight, no way in _hell._

"Hey, Stan!" Kenny called after him, "Stan, hey, I was just kidding, man! C'mon!" Amusement coated his voice, and this only made Stan angrier.

"Fuck you, dude, you can walk your ass home," Stan said, not even making an attempt to look over his shoulder. He opened the door to his car, and once inside, put the keys in the ignition and sped off.

Kenny stood there, watching the car get smaller and smaller as it drove away. It was no big deal; like he said before, he only live five minutes away. With a grin, he started walking onto the sidewalk, on his way to the ghetto side of South Park where he was forced to sleep.

How could he help it, though? How could _anyone _resist Stan Marsh? Kenny's had gym with the guy ever since High School started and he couldn't stop himself when he snuck peeks at his well toned body as he changed.... Oh, the dirty things he would do to that boy!

Maybe, just maybe, one day, Stan would come to his senses and he'll want to do dirty things to Kenny as well. Maybe his dick would get even more attention than just a simple, accidental brush of a hand could bring.

But a boy can only dream. Constantly, those dreams were filled with Stan Marsh.


End file.
